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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791968">a letter there waiting for you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicandlight/pseuds/magicandlight'>magicandlight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The States [73]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers, Statetalia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Asexual Character, Idiots in Love, Inspired By Tumblr, Love Letters, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:29:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicandlight/pseuds/magicandlight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>David's not the best with keeping up with three hundred years of possessions, which becomes a problem when a love letter he wrote a hundred years ago and never sent goes on display in the Smithsonian.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Georgia &amp; North Carolina &amp; South Carolina (Hetalia), North Carolina/West Virginia (Hetalia), Virginia &amp; West Virginia (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The States [73]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/788712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prologue, 1872</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>David’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>pining</span>
  </em>
  <span>, no matter what Scarlett says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So what, if he has a little crush? It’s fine. He’s not entirely sure Wes even knows he’s an option, but it’s too late to clarify that now, and that’s fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except it isn’t, and that’s why he’s drinking and also why Scarlett’s laughing at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David sets his head down on the table. “I hate you,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you don’t,” Scarlett says, without hesitation, completely sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David sighs long-sufferingly. “No, I don’t. I’d still sell you to England for a single biscuit, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daniel wouldn’t let you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David groans. “I hate all of my siblings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like Tim.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except Tim, who is a fucking delightful person who doesn’t annoy me. Except that he refuses to use our last name. That’s okay though, because we respect his bad decisions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scarlett smiles. It’s hard to be annoyed with Scarlett when she smiles like that. “Have you tried actually talking to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David fixes her with the blankest look he can manage. “No, I wanted to communicate through telepathy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I tried to talk to him. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m heterosexual and into his sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you, perhaps, tried saying you’re not heterosexual?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David looks at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scarlett looks back at him, and doesn’t give a single thing away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s pretty sure she isn’t heterosexual, either, but that’s not a discussion he’d like to have now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David has a bet with Tim on Daniel’s reaction, but Scarlett doesn’t know that, and she isn’t going to find out either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes as Scarlett gets up, only opening when she drops something onto the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A paper and pen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could write him a letter,” Scarlett says. After a few drinks, it doesn’t seem like the worst idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David picks up the pen. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2014</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>David is just coming back from a walk with Ash when the phone rings, and he has to sprint across the house to catch the phone before it goes to voicemail. “Sera! What can I do for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sera hums. “I might have found something of yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” David clicks his tongue to get Ash to follow him when he walks to the kitchen to get her after-walk treat. “Something I left at the meeting?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I found it in the Smithsonian.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David groans. Ash licks his hand. As immortals, they tend to accumulate a lot of stuff over the years. David can’t be blamed for maybe not keeping track of all of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, is it another photo? Oh, is it my saber? I’ve been looking for that, I’m worried it’s in a private collection-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a letter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to be more specific, letters were once the main form of communication after all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, he hopes it isn’t one to Cordelia. He and Cordelia had written each other some letters that were definitely colorfully inappropriate at best. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you sent this one,” Sera says teasingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David frowns. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a love confession.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David drops the phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god,” he murmurs. He’d put The Letter in a book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d added a handful of books to the donation pile when Alfred did his spring cleaning a few years back, trying to declutter before he moved closer to Raleigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” David says, and Ash barks in agreement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David can appreciate that when he texts their group chat frantically, his siblings show up, although it’s harder to be grateful when they’re reading the letter he’d written to tell Wes that he was a) very much not heterosexual and b) a little in love with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god, it’s on</span>
  <em>
    <span> display</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” David mutters, horrified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather prominent display at that, since it’s a gay love letter from the 19th century. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scarlett cackles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daniel tilts his head. “We could… steal it?” He offers hesitantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will do no such thing,” Tim hisses. “Security’s a lot better than it used to be, and I’m not bailing you out. I’m sure he won’t see it. The exhibit has to go down at some point, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I become a cryptid?” David muses, lying on the grass of the national mall. “Just go live in the mountains for a few decades.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scarlett scoffs. “You don’t have to live in the mountains to be a cryptid. I’m a local cryptid and I don’t live in the mountains-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well sorry to burst your bubble, but we don’t all have houses straight out of Gone With the Wind,</span>
  <em>
    <span> Scarlett</span>
  </em>
  <span>-” Daniel cut in, having finally given up on getting the stranger dog playing frisbee to come over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, it sucks that they’re keeping it up, but don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” Tim interrupts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They look at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim sighs. “I’m going home. Y’all are too much for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>sera: im going to tell him</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>David glances over the message, dropping it back on the nightstand and burying his face in his pillow before the words register and he sits up. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>you absolutely will not</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he sends back.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>too late :)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even thirty minutes later, Sera snapchats him a picture of Wes reading the letter, one hand pressed to his mouth, eyes wide, and David screams. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>LEAST FAVORITE CAPITAL</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he texts back. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>remember that time you called me short? paybacks a bitch </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sera responds.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m never going outside again</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he texts Daniel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daniel’s response comes seconds later. </span>
  <em>
    <span>lol i’ll order you a pizza then</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“My family is terrible,” David tells Ash. Ash just licks his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes calls him three times. David doesn’t answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David only gets out of bed the next day because someone starts knocking on his door and Ash goes out of her mind barking so he can't pretend he’s not home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's probably Mrs. Finney from next door coming to complain about his chickens. Again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David opens the door with a sigh, wedging himself in the opening when Ash tries to get around him. “Mrs. Finney, there’s no way Nugget could get into your garden, she’s too big-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not Mrs. Finney. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just drove like five hours, please don’t shut the door in my face,” Wes says quickly, and David has to repress a wince because the thought did cross his mind. “I just wanted- can we talk? Maybe not on your porch because I think your neighbor hates me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Finney hates everything except fox news, coupons, and whitewashed Jesus,” David says before he can stop to think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes laughs, and god, he owes Scarlett money because she was right, he is a hot mess. David looks away, grabbing Ash’s collar and holding her back so she doesn’t dart out the door. “You can come in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets her go when the doors shut and they’re both awkwardly standing in the living room, only for Ash to immediately attempt to ruin his life by jumping up on Wes like she’s never been trained a day in her life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David is never going to be able to leave the house again. “I can put Ash in the backyard, sorry, she’s usually better behaved than this-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, she’s sweet,” Wes insists, crouching down to pet her, the buttons on his jacket (</span>
  <em>
    <span>cats against catcalls</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>end mental health stigma</span>
  </em>
  <span>) clicking together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David bites his lip to keep from smiling. He’d wondered if the truly bizarre assortment of buttons on Wes’s meeting bag were the only ones he had. “I like your buttons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes glances down quickly to see which ones he’s wearing. “Thanks. So you're...bi? Or pan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David shoves his hands in his pockets because he’s not sure what to do with them. “Um, I don't really- I usually just say bi, but that's because I like the flag better, but either- either is fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes nods, understanding and David takes a breath.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want a drink or something?” David is aware that he’s stalling, but he has a cute boy petting his dog, and he’d like to delay the letting-you-down-easy part of that experience. Wes follows him to the kitchen, and Ash trails after him, immediately flopping down on her back to get Wes to give her belly-rubs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash is very relatable, honestly. David looks away, opening the fridge. “I have apple-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you mean it?” Wes interrupts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So they’re definitely doing this. David closes the refrigerator.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he says honestly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could say no, that it was a poorly thought out joke, but David has never been good at lying to Wes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you still mean it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David has to close his eyes against the sheer surreality of the boy he’s liked for over two centuries sitting on his kitchen floor, petting his dog, talking about a love letter he wrote drunk that some bored historian stole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Wes breathes, actually surprised like David isn’t the most obvious person ever. Like he didn’t just read seven paragraphs of David rambling about his eyes and the way he smiles and how he looks when he plays the violin and how he’s the reason David knows he isn’t straight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m ace,” Wes blurts out suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David blinks. “ Okay. Aro-ace or just ace?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes looks a little startled that he knew to ask, and David tries not to let it hurt. (Riley might have “accidentally” made a presentation entitled “Aces Are Fucking Valid” instead of “Academic Standards In Indiana” a year or two ago, but you know, anyone can read the directions wrong. Scarlett had thought it was hilarious.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, gay and ace,” Wes says after a minute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence stretches painfully awkward between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David sighs, looking down at his feet. “Look, it’s fine that you don’t feel that way about me. I didn’t mean for you to see that letter. I’m sorry if seeing it made you uncomfortable. I should have kept a better track of it. Or burned it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad that you didn’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David’s head snaps up to look at Wes, who’s looking at him steadily despite the way he’s blushing. “I can’t promise anything. I mean, I like you but I’m not-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes cuts himself off, and David takes pity. “Not in love with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Wes says softly. “Not yet, anyway. But we could try? If you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David carefully makes his way across the kitchen to sit across from Wes, trying to at least look calmer than he feels right now. “I’d like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes drops his gaze, overly focused on petting Ash. “Can I, um, can I kiss you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This boy is going to be the death of me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, David thinks, and he’s totally fine with that. “Please?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>David had never really allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to kiss Wes, just like he’d never let himself fall for him completely, but he knows that there’s no way any fantasy could live up to reality. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. extra scene: Wes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Wes stills when he sees his own name, spelled out in careful handwriting that while familiar, he can't quite place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he gets to the signature. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sincerely, David</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>****</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes calls Liz before he does anything else, because at some point Liz stole sixty percent of his common sense and he hasn’t figured out how to steal it back yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sera sent me a picture. It's not a particularly well-written love letter.” On the other side of the phone, there’s the sound of paper shuffling and Wes almost feels guilty for calling her at work but he’s also aware that Liz hates half the people she works with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It's sincere,” Wes bites back defensively, and Liz laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, what are you going to do about it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes sighs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I think I might love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, David had written. “He writes his little L’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>West</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Liz groans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>East</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Wes says back, though it’s half-hearted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if he doesn't like me anymore?” He asks quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wes, I don't think that's going to be a problem.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes frowns, then remembers that Liz can’t see him. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He's had a thing for you since the Revolution.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liz hums. “Well, I mean, we talked about you once, during the civil war.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liz</span>
  <em>
    <span>zy</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Wes whines, giving up any facade of maturity. “You didn't tell me that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not my fault you're oblivious. Really, Wes, he practically had heart-eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He dated Cordelia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They literally went through hell together and it didn’t stop them from having the messiest breakup in the south.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There's the ace thing, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all that Wes hadn't been aware of David’s (what? Bisexuality? Pansexuality?) not-heterosexualness, Wes is pretty sure David doesn't know about the ace thing, because Wes doesn't talk about the ace thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's ace, but he's not sex-repulsed. It's just. A thing. Maybe some not-great experiences. No big deal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The important takeaway is that Wes doesn't particularly mind sex, he just doesn't crave it. Years ago, he'd thought maybe, but actually he just wanted affection. Sex, in a way, was affection, and sometimes it was the only kind of affection he could get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In retrospect, it was actually kind of sad, but whatever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There have been people before who didn't accept that. Some who thought that not-really-into-sex-but-not-totally-against-it meant it was okay if he wasn't into it because he didn't care, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes is not good at self-care, but he won’t put himself through that again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop that,” Liz hisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes pretends he doesn't know what she's talking about. “Stop what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wes, no. David-” Liz goes quiet for a moment. “He's a good man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes waits for a second for her to continue. “He was the one who did my stitches. After Jackson.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always thought Austin-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Austin was shaking too badly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes breathes through the sudden burst of anger. Lavender jumps from the counter onto his shoulder, nosing at his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that Lavender purring?” Liz asks, sounding chipper in a way he knows isn't real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes grudgingly holds the phone towards Lavender so Liz can talk to him for a second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He won’t answer my calls,” Wes admits after a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone shouts</span>
  <em>
    <span> Ginny</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the other side, and Liz pointedly ignores them. “So? You can drive, can’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bureaucrats never learn that Liz doesn’t respond well to them trying to shorten any of her names. Anyone who calls her a nickname has earned that right, even though Wes doesn’t think it’s fair that all Scott had to do was look pretty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plus, Liz hates being called Ginny. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>allows</span>
  </em>
  <span> younger states to do it, but she doesn’t actually like it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he thinks he’s gonna click his tongue at me like a dog to get me to come over, I’m going to commit murder,” Liz informs him cheerfully. “Anyway, I’ll send you the address. Call me tomorrow! I’ve got to go verbally eviscerate this man. Bye!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wes smiles. “It’ll build his character, I’m sure. I’ll tell you how it goes. Bye, Liz.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is inspired by a tumblr post, which I swear I did try to find but could not. It's the one about immortals losing their stuff and it ending up in museums? If you find it, drop it in the comments. </p><p>Title is from unfinished poems iv by r.i.d. who I am halfway in love with, if you're into poetry check them out. They are on tumblr as inkskinned.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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